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Introduction:

Hi, thie third episode in my fanfic thing. Go ahead and comment!

Peaches spent two days at Jaq’s house and got to know him well. Better in some ways that Sir Ross, who only saw the man’s private persona. As Peaches was rapidly learning, being a slave made for a great opportunity to be treated as furniture, and so she got to learn her users’ secrets. Things they hid from each other, they automatically let her see, because it made no difference what she saw!

Jaq’ asked to play with Peaches several times a day, and sometimes, in a spirit of good fellowship, Sir Ross shared her with their host. Jaq’ was uninhibited and relaxed about the whole thing, accepting without question that they came from another part of his own world and that Peaches was simply to be treated as an object. It came naturally to him, she had to admit!

On their return to Slaveworld, Sir Ross was debriefed extensively by the Prince and by his peers, and even Peaches was asked for her impressions, though in a less formal setting!

Squatting in her perilously high heels over a gently vibrating dildo, her wrists cuffed into a spreader bar that held them bent and out, her wrists level with her neck, Peaches’ breasts were covered with whip marks, candle wax, the punctures of little pins and the marks of the Prince’s teeth. She had cum countless times and knew from experience that if a couple more orgasms were forced from her she would pass out!

The Prince swished his whip behind her and then knelt behind her, the fingers of one hand touching Peaches’ asshole as the flat of his other hand pressed on her tummy, making her sigh softly despite her exhaustion as her owner’s hand pressed on the fat dildo that was humming gently inside her.

‘How was your first mission?’
Peaches had begun to get used to the way aristocrats and troopers spoke to her, a mixture of amused indulgence and casual, proprietary rudeness.
Peaches thought for a second before answering.
‘Jaq’ got used to the idea of slaves really quick. Like he knew something, maybe? And his world isn’t as free as they make out. I saw him in communication with his boss, he’s something in government, like a spook even. Maybe? I don’t know…’
The effort of speaking, even thinking coherently, battling against her exhaustion, the discomfort of her bonds, and the Prince’s wandering, teasing hands, was almost too much for her.
‘I see,’ her owner said, and buckled her gag back into her mouth. Peaches barely had time to draw breath before the whip landed again, making her squirm on the vibrator even as she screamed in pain, the lash like fire on her already abused breasts! She remembered feeling herself tip over into climax once more, and then… nothing.

When Peaches awoke it was in her old cell in the Prince’ stables, and the young stablehand who had always favoured her was in her cell with her, stroking her between her legs. She sighed, knowing that the boy wouldn’t dare to make her cum, but grateful to him for waking her up so nicely. She felt her hips rocking, of their own accord; her most natural response!

The boy was young, surely no older than the eighteen he had to be to work in the stableblock. He was tall and skinny, with a dusting of freckles and another of spots over the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones. In her previous life, Peaches would never have looked twice at the boy, and she wouldn’t now to tell the truth. But she had absolutely no choice, of course!

The boy slipped his fingers, wet with her pussy juices, between her lips, and puller her upright, his hands lingering on her body. She could see his erection through his uniform and felt herself get slightly breathless with desire. She couldn’t help herself! Even totally alone, in an empty room, Peaches was always horny. That was why she was always restrained so that she couldn’t touch herself. If she could, she would have masturbated herself unconscious! The sight of an erect cock, or a wet pussy, drove all thought from her head.

‘Ben!’ Called the Corporal, a short, lean man with a cruel streak a mile wide.
‘Coming Sir!’ Ben called back, collaring Peaches, attaching her lead and leading her, barefoot, naked and bound, down the corridor. She was to spend the next few days naked, on display in the Pirnce’s audience room, as the whip marks faded; he had been a bit enthusiastic in his use, as the troopers agreed as they washed her. She would be back for a while!

By the third day, Peaches thought she would lose what was left of her mind. She had knelt, naked, humiliatingly bound, in the Prince’s audience chamber, for who knew how long every day. He had a new slave, a Nubian slut as black as soot with high strong cheekbones and broad shoulders and hips, and Peaches had watched, helplessly bound, desparately aroused and insanely jealous, as her owner had enjoyed his new toy in front of her. Three days in a row! And she wasn’t being fucked either. She was on a knife edge of tension, and gratedul for her training. Without it she would never have been able to keep herself behaving.

When Ben woke her up with his fingers the next morning, Peaches cried out slightly. Ben flinched back in terror; he knew that Peaches had a tiny transmitter and analyser, buried under her skin, that recorded all her orgasms. Unauthorised orgasm meant days of agony for a slave, but they couldn’t help themselves, of course, so the blame would fall on him. He could find himself in serious, career-wrecking trouble; his privileges were strictly laid out, and no-one in the stable block was supposed to make the girls cum.

Peaches sighed hungrily despite herself, and tried to regain control. Ben hadn’t made her cum, just made her unbelievably hot.

She knew that if someone didn’t fuck her soon, though, the slightest touch would be enough!